Sunday, April 4, 2010

Pope Benedict's reference to St. Paul's description of the "fruits of the spirit" which are guidelines for the paschal direction of our lives caught my attention. Here is a paragraph from the Easter Vigil homily at St. Peter's Basilica on Holy Saturday 3, April 2010. I registered Holy Saturday as the publication date for my memoir "Driving Straight on Crooked Lines: How an Irishman found his heart and nearly lost his mind."

Then, in the practice of the early Church, the one to be baptized turned towards the east – the symbol of light, the symbol of the newly rising sun of history, the symbol of Christ. The candidate for baptism determines the new direction of his life: faith in the Trinitarian God to whom he entrusts himself. Thus it is God who clothes us in the garment of light, the garment of life. Paul calls these new “garments” “fruits of the spirit”, and he describes them as follows: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Gal 5:22).

“Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say, rejoice!” (Phil 4:4). Joy cannot be commanded. It can only be given. The risen Lord gives us joy: true life.

A book about my experience with Marcial Maciel and the Legionaries of Christ.

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The story that inspired "Driving Straight on Crooked Lines"

“A long time ago, a Monk set out on his travels accompanied by his assistant, a Brother. Night was falling when the Monk told the Brother to go on ahead to find lodging. The Brother searched the deserted landscape until he found a humble shack, in the middle of nowhere. A poor family lived in the hovel. The mother, father and children were dressed in rags. The Brother asked if he and the Monk could spend the night in their dwelling. “You are most welcome to spend the night,” said the father of the family. They prepared a simple meal consisting of fresh milk, cheese and cream for the Brother and the Monk. The Brother felt moved by their poverty and even more by their simple generosity.

When they finished eating, the Monk asked them how they managed to survive in such a poor place, so far away from the nearest neighbors and town. The wife looked to her husband to answer. In a resigned tone of voice he told them how they managed to survive. ‘We have one cow. We sell her milk to our neighbors who do not live too far away. We hold back enough for our needs and to make some cheese and cream-that is what we eat.”

The next morning, the Brother and the Monk said their good-byes and set out to continue their journey. After the Monk and the Brother had walked a few miles, the Monk turned to the Brother and said, “Go back and push the cow off the cliff!” “Father,” the Brother replied, “they live off the cow. Without her, they will have nothing.” The Monk repeated his order “go back and kill the cow.”

With a heavy heart, the Brother returned to the hovel. He worried about the future of the family because he knew they depended on the cow to survive. His vow of obedience bound him to follow the orders of the wise Monk. He pushed the cow off the cliff.

Years later, the young Brother became a Monk. One day he found himself on the same road where he found lodging so many years ago. Driven by a sense of remorse he decided to visit the family. He rounded the curve in the road and to his surprise, he saw a splendid mansion, surrounded by landscaped gardens, in the place where the hovel used to be. The new house exuded a sense of prosperity and happiness. The Monk knocked on the door.

A well-dressed man answered. The Monk asked, “what ever became of the family who used to live here? Did they sell the property to you?” The man looked surprised and said he and his family had always lived on the property. The Monk told him how he had stayed in a hovel on the same spot, with his master the old Monk. ‘What happened to the family that lived here?” he asked.

The man invited the Monk to stay with him as his guest. While they ate, the host explained how the family’s fortune changed. “You know Father, we used to have a cow. She kept us alive. We didn't own anything else. One day she fell down the cliff and died. To survive, we had to start doing other things, develop skills we did not even know we had. We were forced to come up with new ways of doing things. It was the best thing that ever happened to us! We are now much better off than before.”

This is a blog of the memoirs of an Irishman - from Dublin - who is a former member of the Legion of Christ.

I look back at the events in the Legion that made me who I am today. It's a fun read with a serious message: positive change can come from adversity.

When I first heard the story of the Monk and the cow, my job - a job I truly loved - was eliminated at the multinational corporation which employed me. My cow was taken away from me, through no fault of my own. The person who told me the story was suggesting I could find new peace, happiness and financial well-being in my adversity, just as the family did when the Monk stole the cow.

A few years later, revelations about the double life of Fr. Marcial Maciel the Founder of the Legionaries of Christ, killed another cow in my life and in the lives of tens of thousands of people.There is a Spanish saying: "God writes straight on crooked lines". "My Legionary Life" is about trying to not get lost in the crooked lines of our own - or others - making. It is about discovering the straight lines that reveal the true purpose for which we exist.It is the the story of the first Irish Legionary of Christ to set foot in Mexico. It begins in Dublin, Ireland, passes through Spain, then Mexico, Italy, the U.S.A and Gabon, in Central West Africa.

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About Me

Published two books, available on Amazon.com:
"Driving Straight on Crooked Lines: How an Irishman found his heart and nearly lost his mind."
"La historia de un Legionario de Cristo irlandés: De cómo encontró su corazón y casi perdió la razón”